


If It Makes You Feel Alive

by maxette



Series: Don't Overthink, Just Let It Go: 30 Day Narry Porn Challenge [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Barbara's only referenced, Bottom!Harry, First Time, I wanted this to be smuttier but it ended up pretty schmoopy, M/M, so are Liam and Zayn technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 01:11:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxette/pseuds/maxette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Niall have a disagreement. It calls for a experiment. </p><p>Filling the prompt <strong>anal sex</strong>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If It Makes You Feel Alive

The thing _Queer as Folk_ neglected to prepare you for, when you were fourteen and watching pirated downloads, late at night, hand on your dick, covers pulled over your head and the laptop screen, with one ear bud in so you could hear if your nosy mum or sister came in without knocking (or was that just Harry?), was that anal sex was kind of a hassle and, most of the time, not even worth it.

Lube was expensive, and it got everywhere. Stretching took forever. Being on the bottom usually started out painful and ended up boring. Being on top was exhausting, trying to enjoy yourself while making sure your bottom wasn’t bored or in pain. Condoms were the worst, but STIs were a huge hassle (or worse). Sometimes it got shitty—quite literally.  

So, yeah, most of the time Harry would just as soon start and end with oral. Or even mutual hand jobs were plenty exciting, if they did happened somewhere a bit weird, like a bathroom or a closet. If a guy insisted on anal, Harry usually insisted that they stopped fooling around altogether and that guy went home. Harry liked orgasms, but when it came right down to it, he liked eating takeaway and watching some raunchy American comedy just as much. Luckily, Niall usually offered that alternative.

In this, their third year of university, Harry shared a house off campus with his four best friends. Harry loved the hell out of all of them, but he had something special with Niall—namely, the fact that they were both single. Zayn was already engaged to Perrie. Liam and Louis were still in that sickening attached-at-the-mouth stage of being a new couple.  That left Harry and Niall, sometimes going out on dates with people from school, sometimes hitting a pub, or a club, and pulling someone for the night, and most often just lounging about and getting drunk in their living room.

It was Friday night. Usually Harry went out for a while and at least tried to find someone worth exchanging blow jobs with, but Niall was still getting over a cold and he was already watching _Zoolander_ with a smorgasbord of Chinese food laid out on the coffee table and getting in on that was _so_ much more appealing.

“Can I eat some of this?” Harry said, flopping down on the other end of the couch.

“As long as you make me eggs later if I’m still hungry,” Niall agreed. He stretched his legs across the couch and lifted his feet into Harry’s lap. “and you give me a foot rub.”

“Fair enough.” Harry got the peppermint lotion from the side table and squeezes some into his hands. He privately enjoyed rubbing Niall’s feet—not because he liked feet or anything, but because of all the approving, satisfied noises Niall made when he did it.

Louis padded downstairs as he towel-dried his hair, getting ready for his weekly night out with Liam. “You’re like an old married couple,” he told them.

“Who cheats on each other all the time,” Harry said.

Niall nodded. “Right, like—amicably.”

“Like old, queer, domestic partners,” Louis clarified, “in an open relationship.”

“What do you think, Hazza?” Niall said, poking Harry’s leg with his foot. “Want to get DP’d?”

Harry snorted. “ _No_.”

“Wait a minute.” Niall sat up straight. “You’re not a _top_ , are you? Like a toppy top, always tops, never bottoms-type top?”

“No!” Harry said. “No, no, I just—don’t really like anal sex—in either position.”

Niall paused the movie, set down his chow mein, and stared at him. “Excuse me?” Harry shrugged.

“Right, argue about sex positions,” Louis muttered, turning to go back upstairs. “That’s not like a couple at all.”

“Well, it’s—complicated, innit? The return on your investment is—”

“Wait, you did a cost-benefit analysis, Mr. Business Major, and the costs of _fucking_ outweigh the benefits—of _fucking_ , mind you, of, like, actual _sex,_ like—”

“Oral sex is sex, Niall. Despite what our heteronormative society maintains as ‘real sex,’ penetration isn’t required for a satisfying—”

“Jesus Christ, Harry, there’s nothing wrong with a blow job, but, like—not to sound like a romance novel, but that connection when you’re inside someone, and you’re looking at each other, and everything is just—you know? You can’t beat it.”

“Only when you’re inside someone else? Are you a toppy top, then?”

“No, of course not, I—I just haven’t felt that since I was with Barbara, so that’s what I—”

Harry rubbed his hand up Niall’s leg because he always needed a bit of comfort when Barbara came up. “Maybe it’s just that I’ve never done anal with someone I’m in love with.”

“No,” Niall said decidedly. “I felt that the first time with her. And that was halfway through the first date.”

“You dog,” Harry tickled his feet. Niall kicked his hands away, grinning into his takeout box.

“It’s just about connection. Blowjobs were _nothing_ compared to that and she—well, a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, but she did stuff with her mouth I thought girls only did in porn. She _loved_ it.”

Harry had heard the same thing said about himself a few times. Harry looked at Niall’s lap, pursing his lips.

“Did she like to deep throat?” Harry said. “Did she like to choke on your cock?”

“Harry!”

“Sorry! It’s only—”

It’s only that Harry didn’t gag himself on just any cock. It had to be worth his effort. And Barbara was a discerning young lady, even if she did choose a globetrotting career as a model over Niall. Not that that was the only reason they broke up—Harry can hear Niall arguing in his head—but it was the one Harry finds most inexplicable. How could she leave Niall? If she had to go, she should have taken Niall with her.

Whatever—her loss. Harry had always thought that, but for the first time Harry wondered exactly how much she lost. Was his cock long? Was it fat? Was it veiny? Did it smell good? Did it leak a lot of precome? Were his balls big? Was his hair dense, and soft and—

“If you let me give you oral, you can give me anal.”

Niall choked. “What?”

“I mean—”

“You’re saying I get a blow job, and as compensation for that great trial, I get to fuck you.”

“I _mean_ —” Harry said forcefully, although Niall had it exactly right, “it’s like a test, right? An experiment. Weighing one against the other—which one’s better, oral or anal?”

“That’s how you want to spend your Friday night?”

“Having sex is usually my plan, actually.”

Niall blushed and stuffed a whole pot sticker into his mouth. “Right,” he said, around his food, and swallowed. “Right, well—for it to be fair, I really need to give you a blow job, too. Mutual orgasms compared to mutual orgasms.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“No, I want to. I mean I want the test to be fair. I mean, it should be really—you seduce me, I seduce you, right?”

“Should I play hard to get?”

Niall laughed and crawled across the couch to him. He kneeled next to Harry and ducked down to kiss him. “No,” he said, still laughing, and kissed him again. He tasted like garlic and soy sauce, but it wasn't bad. “No, let’s just—do it like normal, like—” It occurred to Harry that this _was_ normal—they wouldn’t be having sex, normally, they wouldn’t be kissing—but it _felt_ normal. It felt good, and easy, to run his fingers over the short, soft hair at the back of Niall’s neck, and suck his bottom lip into his mouth. “—like two guys who are into each other and want to have sex and—”

“Oh my god!” Louis shrieked. “You’re making out now? Are you mocking me? Or are you—are you actually domestic partners and you’ve been keeping a secret because—”

Harry had actually forgotten Louis and Liam were still in the house. The DVD player informed him it’s just half four in the afternoon.

“It’s an experiment,” Harry told him.

“You’re trying to tell me that you’re not making out right now.”

“No, we are,” Niall said.

Which was great, but Harry really wanted to be having mutual orgasms with Niall instead. He stood up and pulled Niall up with him. “Excuse us. We need to go exchange blow jobs.”

“As an experiment,” Louis said.

Harry pat him on the shoulder as he dragged Niall to the stairs to go up to the bedrooms. “Exactly.”

Niall’s room was the first one they passed, so Harry fumbled the door open and backed Niall inside and onto his unmade bed. Usually Harry would kiss his date for a while longer, especially when he was as good at kissing as Niall was proving to be, but Harry really wanted to get a look at Niall’s cock. He shimmied down Niall’s body and kissed and licked at Niall’s stomach—soft and taut, with a sweet little happy trail—while he unfastened his trousers and pulled them down his legs with his pants.

And his cock did not disappoint. Harry wouldn’t say it was the cock of his cock sucking dreams, but only because he thought that sounded quite Disney. He smelled incredible, a spicy musky scent that was better than Harry had ever encountered around this part of a body. Smell was an underestimated factor in attraction.

Harry went to town, taking him deep, gagging, choking, begging Niall to grab his hair and fuck his face, loved the feeling of being owned, being used, especially by someone he _knew_ loved him and respected him as well as his own family. He had never felt that before, Harry realized, felt the trust that was supposed to be a part of submission. The trust was what he’d been missing, what had left him feeling a bit shit at the end of some hook ups.

Maybe anal sex was about to be _amazing_.

Niall came—beautiful, delicious, with these sweet little whimpering noises—and grappled at Harry’s shoulders to pull him higher on the bed. Niall pressed kisses across Harry’s face as he caught his breath. “Let me—” Niall pushed him back on the bed and slithered down in between his legs.

Harry let him, scratching his hands through his hair, but—“I’m all set.”

“You came?” Niall stroked Harry’s soft cock through his jeans, pulling open his fly, and wrenching his jeans down his legs. “Does that count as—”

“Mutual orgasms? Yes. Definitely. Very, very mutual.”

“You really like oral,” Niall said, grinning up at him as sucked Harry’s cock clean, with just the right amount of pressure for it not to be painful so soon after coming, and wiped up the rest of his come with his shirt. 

“Yes,” Harry agreed. He really, really did.

“Well, if that was half as good for you as it was for me, I understand why.” Niall stretched out next to Harry again, and pulled the comforter off the floor over the both. “Nap now. Then more Chinese, then we finish _Zoolander_ , then we do the anal round. Okay?”

“I’m going to win,” Harry said, wrapping his arms tight around Niall.

“Nah,” Niall said sleepily. “No way.”

In the end, they did the anal round while the last half hour of _Zoolander_ played in the background. Niall licked him open and stretched him wide on the couch, until Harry was fucking himself on Niall’s fingers and begging to be filled. Harry straddled him and sat on Niall’s cock, relishing every new inch of him inside him, and fucked himself with long, slow strokes. Niall kept his hands on Harry’s hips, and held his gaze, telling Harry silently every single thing he’s ever wanted to hear from this kind, funny, sweet, precious, beautiful Irish boy.

“Okay,” said Harry, close to tears because he felt so good and so full of Niall—Niall, Niall, everywhere, down to his marrow, down to his _soul_. “I think you win.”

Niall laughed, smoothing his hands over Harry’s cheeks. “I bet, when I finally get my mouth on your hard cock, we’ll say you won. I guess we have to keep experimenting, see if we can reproduce the results.”

“I think that might have been so good because I’m in love with you.” Harry coughed, but refused to break Niall’s gaze, no matter how nervous this made him. “Okay?”

“Fine by me,” Niall said with his normal easy grin.

Panic zipped down his spine like ice. “Ni, if you’re not—”

“I love you, too, Harry—are you mad? Of course.”

Harry laughed, relaxing against Niall. “Shall we watch _Zoolander_ properly now?”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you find a typo or other monkey business in this fic? I know it can feel rude or pushy or just weird to tell authors about that stuff, so [I made a form where you can report it anonymously](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1--1RxNJyJCWZPaRyBeV6jtmUrcEI0zuUkDvoJoA6A_A/viewform). Thank you in advance for making a better reading experience for future readers.


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